


The Impossible Girl's Dream

by mx_mond



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dream Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 21:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mx_mond/pseuds/mx_mond
Summary: Much like a certain fisherman’s wife, Clara is dreaming of tentacled things.





	The Impossible Girl's Dream

In her dream, Clara is standing in a high room with no windows. It’s steely and harsh, and bare. She sees a lone Dalek at the other end of the room and freezes. Even though she is a few dozen steps away, she can see a girl that looks just like her in the Dalek’s eyestalk. The Dalek shouts “Exterminate!” in its grating voice, raises its gun and in that same moment she raises her arm.

“You can disarm it, you know,” says a sly voice somewhere behind her. She knows who that is, doesn’t have to turn. “You can let it out.”

Clara lowers her arm and the Dalek lowers its gun. With the other hand, she reaches up and undoes the buttons on her sweater, lets it fall to the ground. Slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the Dalek, she raises her hands to her throat, starts unbuttoning her shirt. Fear mixes with excitement in her stomach and below, cannot be distinguished from it. The air is cool against her skin and she shivers. Her nipples harden as she unhooks her bra and pulls it off. She uzips her skirt, pulls it down along with her knickers.

At the same time, there are clicks and whirrs coming from inside the Dalek. As Clara steps out of her skirt, naked and covered in goosebumps, the casing opens, displaying the seat that she knows very well, that she only just managed to escape from not long ago. The creature in it looks slimy and tender. It regards her with its lonely eye protrouding from the mass of tentacles.

“It’s actually really nice,” says the voice behind her. “Go on, touch it.”

Clara approaches slowly. The fleshy mass trembles at the contact. Is she causing it pain? The eye half-closes and the creature slides down, vacating the seat.

Again, the voice:

“Get in.”

It seems smaller from the inside; she has to sit at the very edge and curve her back in order to fit. There are metal braces above her head and in the open parts of the casing, level with her buttocks. She raises her arms and stucks her feet out. The braces clamp shut on her wrists and ancles. She feels the cool air between her spread legs.

The creature moves upwards and suddenly she’s afraid of being bitten. She tenses, clenching her muscles in a futile attempt at protection, but relaxes as the warm, moist tentacled climb along her body. Some stick to her inner thighs, making her move her hips forward, trying to display the places she wants touched. Another pair reaches higher, covering her breasts. She feels their sucking on her nipples. One lands on her chin, the tip enters her mouth. She sucks it in deeper, breathing gently through her nose. Her cunt tingles and she feels pinpricks on her buttocks from the cramped position she’s in making her even more sensitive to the touch.

Now the central mass moves closer, covering her mound. It doesn’t seem to have a mouth, but it starts sucking anyway, gently pulling at her labia. Something worms its way below as well, reaching into her arse. She tenses again. She doesn’t want to lose control, doesn’t want to open herself completely. But she looks down at the eye fixed at her – the creature looks as ugly as she feels inside, so why not it? Who else would be able to stand the sight of her? She feels the last of her muscles unclench, the tentacle pushing itself into the warm dark. It pulsates slowly, and she moves her hips in rhythm, rubbing her cunt against it. One of the suckers finds her clit, sticks to it. Her movements grow more frantic now and the creature responds by sucking harder, all across her body, pulling at her nipples in a way that’s almost painful, but all the more pleasant. The tentacle in her arse stretches her even further and now the last part of her gives, she’s open, she’s flooding, her muscles clenching and unclenching, squeezing and releasing. There is a discharge of some sort, she can feel the wetness running down her legs, pooling on the seat, she’s not sure if it was her or the creature, doesn’t know if it makes a difference.


End file.
